


Depravity

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: On a Hiding to Nothing Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Mark of Cain Dean, Mentions of Breeding, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Twincest, Wincest - Freeform, moc!dean, twin sister au, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 11:56:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18120338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Y/n has spent months trying to get what happened out of her head, filling her nights with alcohol and any guy in Miami who tries to take her to bed. Crowley shows up to inform her of her twin’s mental deterioration; the Mark of Cain is destroying him and she’s the only one who can help tide the darkness. THIS IS A DARK FIC!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~You started to move for the door but Sam stopped you. “You don’t have to leave.”“First off, you don’t get to decide where I go and when. Second, you’re obviously fuckin’ confused here, because there is no fuckin’ way that I am staying here.”“Dean needs-”“Fuck Dean’s needs!” you growled. “That mark on his arm is his fault. It’s Crowley’s fault. We could have neutralized Abaddon without the damn First Blade but those two rushed into this shit headfirst. And who pays the price, huh? Charlie, and me, and whoever else he’s fucked up because of the darkness seeping out into his already dark fuckin’ soul. I’m not fucking sticking around to try to help him clean up his fucking mess!”





	Depravity

**Story Warnings** : angst, depression, drinking, MoC!Dean,  **18+ HERE BE SEX! DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!! NON-CON** , past non-con fingering, past non-con, unprotected sex, incest, sister wincest, a mention of breeding

* * *

Miami, Florida was about as far away from Lebanon, Kansas as you could get without leaving the country. It was also the last place your brothers or Castiel would come looking for you. It was so not you. You were the antithesis of South Beach, which of course made you a novelty there.

You were a warrior in work boots in a sea of Barbie dolls in bikinis, so it was never hard to find a guy who wanted to give you a try. It was never more than a night. You slipped out of their beds while they slept and went to a different bar each night. Miami had more than enough bars to rotate.

You’d spent so much of your life  _not_ participating in the casual sex thing that you were kinda surprised how good you were at it. You were also surprised at how little the sex improved your mood.

Sam kept you up-to-date through emails you never responded to, begging you to come home at the end of each. ‘We can work this out as a family. Just come home.’ is how he ended them. Dean never reached out, never tried to get in touch.

Cas called once and left a voicemail to inform you of Metatron’s human condition, of his escape. He begged you to keep an eye out, to call if you saw the former angel. It was Crowley that finally found you.

“You stick out like a sore thumb, femchester,” he said, taking a seat next to you at the bar of the trendy beachside restaurant you’d picked for the night.

You didn’t look at him, just taking a gulp of your cheap tequila. “Like a demon in Armani must’ve stuck out at the Flamingo Lounge.”

“Exactly.”

“How and  _why_ did you find me, Crowley?”

“I’ve had demons across the country lookin’ fer you for weeks, darling. I was about to take the search international, but you happened to catch the eye of one of my sales associates at the music venue down the street. Like I said, you draw attention in this environment.”

“Pretty sure I put the emphasis on the ‘why’.”

“Dean needs you.”

You snorted, forcing the rest of your drink down your throat. “Congrats on ending the conversation before it’s begun. I’m not doing shit for him.”

“The Mark is poisoning him.”

“Should I care? You and Dean should’ve listened to the disclaimers.”

“He’s killing people. He’s out of control. He hurt the ginger girl.”

“I’m waiting for you to get to the part where any of that is my problem,” you said, turning on the stool to look at him. “You, what, want me to go help Sam control him? Please.”

“Sam can’t help him like you can, y/n.”

Your jaw tightened and you dropped down off of the stool. “We’re done talking.”

“If you don’t help him, he’s going to kill Sam. The Mark will force him to.”

You stopped your retreat and shook your head. “Then tell Sam to leave, too. It’s not like it’d be the first time.”

“Can you put away your bullshit for two  _bloody_ seconds, woman? He needs-”

“Our whole lives have been about what Dad needs or Sam needs or Dean needs!” you snapped. “It’s my turn! You want me to go back there, where I’ve been manipulated and used and torn apart by the one person who’s supposed to give a fuck about me?”

“That’s exactly why you need to go to him,  _because_ of how much he gives a fuck.”

“No, that is-” You shook your head, that familiar film of disgust settling over you. “What he feels for me, that’s… that’s not-” You took a deep breath and bit your bottom lip. “I’m not going back, Crowley, so you might as well just… give my brothers my best.”

The demon grabbed your elbow as you moved to leave again. “I’m not asking.” The pull of teleportation was nothing new but the demon variant seemed to hurt much more than the angel version. By the time you pushed past the pain, Sam was in front of you, wrapping you in a tight hug. “I brought that package for Dean. Where is he?”

Sam pulled back as you turned your head to glare at the demon. “He’s, uh, in the gym. Punching bag. We thought-”

“Good. I can get out of here before he sees me.”

You started to move for the door but Sam stopped you. “You don’t have to leave.”

“First off, you don’t get to decide where I go and when. Second, you’re obviously fuckin’ confused here, because there is no fuckin’  _way_ that I am  _staying_ here.”

“Dean needs-”

“Fuck Dean’s needs!” you growled. “That mark on his arm is  _his_ fault. It’s  _Crowley’s_ fault. We could have neutralized Abaddon without the damn First Blade but those two rushed into this shit headfirst. And who pays the price, huh? Charlie, and  _me_ , and whoever else he’s fucked up because of the darkness seeping out into his already  _dark_ fuckin’ soul. I’m not fucking sticking around to try to help him clean up his fucking mess!”

“Y/n, you haven’t even talked to him since-”

“Do you know why I’m here, Sam? Do you know what Crowley wants me to do?!” Sam looked down, his body stiffening. You scoffed. “You  _do_ , and you think I should say ‘yes’.”

“We have to save Dean, y/n. We can’t just let him become this-”

“I told you both ‘no’, Crowley.” Dean’s voice at the mouth of the hallway made you jolt and you bit your lip as you turned to him.

“‘No’ didn’t mean much when  _she_ said it, either… to you  _or_ me.” The demon raised his eyebrows at your twin. “She’s here. Deal with it.”

“Take her back,” Dean demanded and you cringed at the gruff tone, before stomping past Crowley and Sam toward the spiral staircase.

“I’m not going back to the place where he found me so that he can pop in and Cas me away whenever he feels like it. I’ll get out of here on my own, thanks.”

“Probably best not to mouth off, y/n,” Crowley suggested.

“Don’t talk to her, Crowley.”

You cringed at his tone, again, anger filling you at your own reaction to your brother. “Don’t need your help, Dean,” you growled, grabbing the railing and taking the stairs two at a time.

“Can you not at least fucking talk to each other?” Sam called out. “He’s not a demon, anymore, y/n!”

“He wasn’t a demon when he chased Jesse out of my fucking life, Sam! He wasn’t a demon in Puyallup, either! We all know what he did and why you think I can help him, but no one has offered a valid reason why I fuckin’  _should_.”

“Jesse was a piece of shit,” Dean growled. You stopped at the top of the stairs, seething as you turned to look down at him. “You deserved better than him.”

“Oh, did I? Because after Jesse, all I got was depression and fucking loneliness.” Dean’s face contorted into a sneer as you spoke. “Because of  _you_. Because you decided that you didn’t want to see me with some other man and that your happiness was so much more important than mine. Bite me, Dean.”

“Guys, don’t do this! We’re family, we can-”

“Shut up, Sam!” you and Dean shouted.

“‘We’re family’ is half the problem here.”

“Who the hell are you kidding? Us being family is the  _whole_ problem,” Dean argued. “If we weren’t family, there wouldn’t be any issues here.”

“Yes, there would! You chased away every chance at happiness I ever had! You’ve been selfish and terrible and disgusting and fucking  _sick_ and-” Your words cut off sharp as Dean rushed the stairs, hitting the top landing and wrapping his huge left hand around your throat before you had an opportunity to do anything more than cringe in response. Your hands wrapped around his forearm, nails digging into his arm through his sleeve.

“ _Dean_!” Sam shouted as your twin forced you backwards until your back hit the wall next to the exit.

“Give ‘em a minute, Moose.”

“Do you know how fucking hard it’s been for me to not track you down and drag you screaming back here where you fucking belong?” Dean growled, leaning down next to your ear. “Do you know how much control this has taken? When I know how you taste, what you feel like, the noises you make when you cum? When I  _finally_ know what makes you moan, how tight your pussy is? Do you know how hard this has been for me?”

You whimpered as heat flooded you at his words and the memories they conjured. “G-get off'a me.” You tried to say the words with conviction, but they came out weak. “I don’t belong here.”

His fingers tightened slightly around your neck as he slid his knee between your legs and pressed the thick muscle of his thigh against your heat. “Yes, you do. Right here, sis.”

“Now would be the time to leave, Sam,” Crowley instructed. “‘Less you  _wanna_ see this.”

There was a sound of boots on tile, but you couldn’t see Sam walk away. Your eyes had closed, of their own accord, in response to Dean’s thigh putting persistent pressure on your mound. The seam of your jeans was pressing into your clit and Dean had started licking along the shell of your ear. “You c-can’t.”

“Think we’ve proved I can. And you fuckin’ like it when I do.”

“Don’t. D-dean, don’t.”

“Why, huh? Why shouldn’t I?” He pulled back enough to look into your eyes, loosening his grip on your throat but increasing the pressure of his thigh against you. “Tell me why I shouldn’t bend you over that railing and fuck you ‘til you can’t move, and don’t say it’s because you’re my sister.”

“That’s a reason! That’s a big fuckin’ reason!” you argued.

“Oh, we already broke that seal, y/n.” He licked his lips.

“Get off of me,” you demanded, and this time it came out strong. You pushed your hands against his chest but he barely moved, green eyes narrowing at your attempt at distance. “I’m your  _sister_ , not some sex toy to keep your bullshit evil mark at bay.” You shook your head. “I’m not gonna let you do this to me  _again_.”

Your right fist connected with his jaw and his finally stumbled back away from you. You squared your shoulders and stepped away from the wall, sneering at him. “I have been trying, for  _months_ , to cleanse you from me!” You rubbed your knuckles, contemplating going for another swing. “Out of my life, out of my heart, off of my fucking body! I figured, when I got to Miami, that if I fucked every guy with a smile and a tired line, maybe I could bury what you did to me in a hundred other memories, but it’s still fuckin’ there!”

You knew, as soon as the words were out of your mouth, that you’d made a mistake by letting them pass your lips. Maybe part of you wanted him to know you weren’t  _his_ anymore. The rage in his eyes as he grabbed a handful of your hair with one hand and the collar of your shirt with the other told you that he’d gotten the point. “How many?” he practically growled, lifting you up and slamming you back into the wall. You gave a whimpering moan in response. “How many men have you let touch what’s mine?”

“Not yours,” you grunted through clenched teeth.

“ _How many?!_ ” You kicked at him, but he just pulled you away from the wall and slammed you back into it again.

“Fourteen.” You took a breath to battle the air that rushed from your lungs every time your back met the wall. “Fif-fifteen if you count the one that didn’t finish.”

His lips twitched, eyes going unfocused as he tried to control the rage the Mark of Cain pushed through his system. “You let ‘em cum in you?”

“I’m not stupid,” you snapped.

“I fuckin’ disagree.” He let your hair go and licked his lips. “If you were smart, you never woulda opened your fuckin’ mouth. Never woulda opened your fuckin’ legs, either.”

“I had to… had to get you out of me.”

“I am a fucking part of you, y/n. Ya ain’t getting rid of me.” The hand from your hair traveled down your front, groping over your breasts before sliding into the front of your jeans and into your panties.

Your breathing hitched as his fingers brushed your folds. “D., please. Not again. Don’t do this.”

He leaned down next to your ear as he started to rub rough circles around your clit. “I have to get them out of you.”

His turn on your words is all the warning you got before you were forced to your hands and knees on the smooth stone floor of the landing, your pants and underwear yanked down to your mid thigh and two thick, calloused fingers working you open. You were whimpering, desperately wanting to cry out as his fingertips found all the places your myriad nameless lovers hadn’t been able to find, but you couldn’t. You know how sound carries in the bunker and you couldn’t let Sam hear, couldn’t let your baby brother know that you’re just as sick as your twin, that you fucking  _like_ this.

Because, as much as you’d like to place the feeling square on Dean’s shoulders, a lot of the disgust you’d felt since finding Dean at that strip club was directed at yourself.

The telltale sound of Dean’s belt clinking open, combined with addition of a third finger, made you squeeze your eyes shut. “Fifteen men. Hands on your skin, tongues in your mouth, cocks in your cunt.  _Fifteen_.” You slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle your moan as his cockhead slid along your slit. No resistance. You were dripping wet. “I’m just gonna have to fill you full of cum fifteen times to balance it.”

“D., you-”

“Don’t worry, sis. I ain’t gonna do it all at once. I’ve got good stamina, but that’d be insane.” You bit into your hand as he pushed in just a few inches. “Fuck. Your pussy is…” He slipped almost completely out of you, then slammed his hips forward.

You screamed, your hand tearing from your mouth and slamming down on the floor to hold you up. His hips fit snugly against your ass for a moment before he slid back and eased into you again, making sure the internal resistance was gone. “I’m going to fucking wreck you. No going slow this time, no letting you get used to the fact that it’s  _me_  fuckin’ you.” He slammed into you again and another scream tore from your throat. There was no denying the pleasure in the sound. “I just don’t have the patience for it.”

His hands wrapped around your hips and he yanked back into him with each thrust, starting up a harsh, fast pace that left you babbling out expletives. It wasn’t fair that it felt so good. The pleasurable pain of his thick cockhead impacting your cervix, the impossibly-full feeling you got for a split-second before he was pulling back again, the shocks of pleasure he sent through you every time his fingers dug into your flesh deeper.

It wasn’t fair that you could feel yourself hurtling toward another orgasm aided only by your twin brother’s dick, or that he felt it, too. “Gettin’ fuckin’ close, huh? So fuckin’ wet for your disgusting twin. Fuckin’  _judging_  me, but you’re gonna cum all over me just like you did last time, so you’re just as fuckin’ bad, aren’t’cha?” he leaned down and growled in your ear, and a rush of shame-fueled panic rushed through you.

“No, no, no, no.”

“Fuckin’  _yes_.”

You moaned out another ‘no’ as your body rebelled and let your orgasm sweep across you. He growled out a ‘ _fuck_ ’ and rutted into you a few more times before shoving himself deep inside you, his cock twitching as he pumped you full of cum, just as he said he would. You whimpered at the feel of him pulsing inside of you, your inner muscles milking him for every drop. It felt good. “Oh, God,” you whispered in disgust. You  _were_ just as bad as him.

His breathing slowed from its panting puffs and he ran what you were sure was supposed to be a soothing hand across the quickly blooming bruises on your right hip. You gasped as he pulled out of you and stood.

His eyes were clear of the rage you saw before as he helped you right your clothes. He looked remorseful, like he cared. He looked like the man he is supposed to be.

He sighed and stepped down the first few steps of the spiral staircase. “Don’t stay.” He rubbed his palm across his shirt sleeve over the Mark. “Don’t help me with this. It’s not your problem.”

You licked your lips and stepped closer. “It never worked. The other men, none of them could get me there… and it wasn’t because they were bad in bed, they weren’t. Some were very not bad and some really put the time in but… it never worked.” Dean’s eyes were sad, confused, with just a  _spark_  of hope that you were saying what he wanted you to be saying. “Because none of them were my other half.”

A smile twitched to his lips as you stepped down onto the first step. “It’s sick… and wrong, and I am honestly  _disgusted_ in both of us but… you’re the only one makes me feel whole.”

A full grin spread across his face and up to his eyes. He licked his lips and started down the stairs again. “Welcome home, sis.” When he got to the bottom, he smiled up at you. “I owe you fourteen more.” He winked and walked away down the hall.

“Yer gonna need these,” Crowley said, popping up next to you with a small paper bag. You opened it and sighed. “Sam’s abomination enough for the Winchester clan. We do not need you poppin’ out a Joffrey Baratheon.”

Part of you wanted to snap at the demon for butting into your personal life and for bringing you back to Kansas in the first place, but you just nodded at him and pulled the Plan B out of the bag, leaving the pink compact of pills in the bottom. “Thanks, Crowley. Kinda weird for a demon to hand me birth control, but… thanks.”

“I’d hide that.” Your eyebrows came together and Crowley softly rolled his eyes. “S'all about the depravity, the sickness, the  _wrong_  of it all… what’s more wrong than fuckin’ his twin? Getting her knocked up. The Mark wants you, y/n, and it wants you bred. If Dean finds out that yer on birth control, it won’t end well for you, I’m sure.”

You gagged a bit at the thought of Dean getting you pregnant. You nodded, rolling the top of the bag down tight and shoving it into your pocket. “This is gonna work, right? Keeping him sane, I mean. He won’t… he’ll be all right?”

“Best I can promise is he’ll be better.”

“Right. Awesome.” You sighed and started down the stairs, heading for your room. Sam was waiting for you, sitting on your bed. You took a deep breath and moved for your dresser.

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do it.”

“I sent Crowley to find you.” You tensed, anger sweeping over you. “Dean told me, when I got him back here, he was taunting me. He told me what he did and he told me that the Mark liked it almost as much as the killing and… he almost killed Charlie. He’s been getting worse and-”

“Sam, shut up. I understand.” You pulled out a clean pair of jeans and moved for a new tank top. “I’m here. I’m helping. Don’t make it a thing.”

“‘Don’t make it a’- y/n, come on.”

You turned to him with a glare. “ _Sam_. This needs to be one of those things that we all know about and no one talks about. Like Dean’s weird  _Golden Girls_  thing or your Bon Jovi obsession.”

“Y/n. This isn’t-”

You shook your head, pulling the brown bag out of your pocket, sliding the pale pink compact out and hiding it in your shirt drawer. “Don’t tell him you saw that. It’s a thing.” You turned back to your little brother and gave a tight smile. “It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. But we need to not talk about it.”

Sam nodded and stood, sighing. He licked his lips, opened his mouth like he was going to speak, then shook his head. He patted your shoulder and walked out of your room. You filled the glass that sat on your sink and swallowed down the Plan B. You looked down at the glass. You didn’t need water. You were gonna need liquor.


End file.
